I set my alarm for 5:07 a.m., though I usually wake up a few minutes before the ringer sounds.

I could go with 5:00 or 5:15, but 5:07 is the perfect middle ground to get me to the gym by 5:45, where I either take a class or meet a training partner.

I wasn’t always a morning person. But I’ve found that the only way to remain dedicated to a training program is to get it done first thing in the morning. If you plan it for later, someone inevitably will steal that time away.

Training in the morning has been life changing. It provides an endorphin rush that carries me through the late morning hours, making it the most productive part of my day. It also gives me a feeling of accomplishment. No matter how crazy the rest of the day becomes, I know I at least nailed that workout.

Getting up at 5:07 a.m. is easy only if you get to bed at a consistent time, which for me is 10 p.m. That means lights out at 10. To be in position to fall asleep immediately thereafter requires a sleep ritual to wind the body down. That means no screens for the previous hour – no phone, tablet, laptop or television.

If that sounds like a Spartan existence, I won’t disagree. But I’ve found that if I can control the bookends to my day, it’s a lot easier to be productive for the 17 hours I’m awake. By getting quality, consistent sleep and working out daily at the same time, I have more energy and focus and require less caffeine.

Perhaps you work nights. I did, too, for a number of years and this schedule would not have fit. But judging by the vast array of occupations represented at my gym in the hours before 7 a.m., most people can make an early-morning workout fit into their schedule.

The U.S. Army once had a memorable ad campaign featuring soldiers hard at work or training in the pre-dawn darkness and then again as the sun came up. The tagline? We get more done before noon than most people get done all day.

When you get up early and train early, you can’t help but feel like you’re getting a head start on everyone else who is still sleeping. When you go to bed early, you’re getting a jump on those still watching television or living online.

This schedule isn’t for everyone, though it can work for most. If you’re struggling to find the time to train, however, it might be the solution.

 

 

It’s difficult to find a quiet place anymore. Retail stores feature pulsing club music. There are televisions in every waiting room – doctor, dentist, even auto mechanic – and even screens in taxis and elevators.

There’s no escaping the noise, not even in church. Church used to be a place of quiet, mindful reflection. Those arriving at church early knew to be quiet. It was understood that some were praying or at least engaging in the type of solemn reflection that probably drew them to a house of worship in the first place.

Not today. Enter a church 10 or 15 minutes before a service begins and it feels like you’re waiting for a concert or theater production to begin. There’s non-stop chatter. People are scrolling through their phones, checking social media, perhaps sending a few texts.

Before mass begins, a lector will make a few announcements, including a plea to silence all electronic devices. This never works. Inevitably during the mass someone’s phone will go off, usually during one of the most solemn points of the service and usually with the loudest, most obnoxious ring tone. And it’s often a phone belonging to a woman, who must scramble to retrieve the phone from the depths of her bag to silence it. Thus, the phone rings five or six times before it’s turned off.

Is there nowhere we can escape digital disruption? A Catholic mass, like the ones I attend, lasts roughly an hour, usually 50 minutes or so. Are we so digitally addicted that we can’t leave the phone in the car? Unless you’re an on-call physician, is there any possible emergency that can’t wait an hour?

Back when those hideous Bluetooth earpieces were fashionable – thankfully we moved away that – I knew a guy who would wear one in church. I always wondered if he planned to take calls during the service. I’ve sat next to people who text and scroll through social media feeds during mass.

Look, church isn’t for everyone. I’ve gone through periods, especially in recent years, where my attendance has been sporadic. But if you’re going to make the commitment to go, shouldn’t it be a time of prayerful reflection, a time to pause from the chaos of daily life and be mindful?

When 24/7 digital use became an issue a decade or so ago, priests used to address it. A few even called out the offenders. But now, like so much rude behavior involving phones – phones used at restaurants, movies, on airplanes, etc. – priests have resigned themselves to having disruptions in mass. I know they must do a slow burn at the altar, pausing while someone digs the phone out.

No doubt the priests are praying that people can somehow become more mindful – at least for the one hour they’re in church.

I haven’t celebrated Mother’s Day in a long time. My grandmothers died years ago and Mom passed when I was in college. But as Mother’s Day approaches this year, I’ve been wondering what Mom would think of the world today compared to what it was like when she died in 1991, a generation ago.

She no doubt would marvel at how people fill their lives with digital distraction, connecting to video, music, or the Internet every waking moment. She’d be amazed at how often people eat out and how everything is much bigger, from homes to cars to televisions to bodies.

She’d wonder what happened to kids playing outside, families enjoying the outdoors together, and people living intentional, mindful, focused lives. She’d no doubt shake her head over social media, online shopping, participation trophies, reality television, and our narcissistic American consumer culture on steroids.

Mom’s lean living philosophy inspires the way I live today. Here’s what I learned from Mom:

WORK IN A GARDEN: Long before the terms “master gardener” and “organic foods” were popularized, Mom grew her own produce and flowers. She saw the value in raising beautiful things, toiling in the soil every day, and eating fruits and vegetables fresh from the garden. I’ve tried most every workout imaginable and yet there’s nothing that challenges every part of the body and leaves me as sore and exhausted as yard work. Mom understood that. She also believed in the value of “working” outside away from the phone, television, and other disruptions. The sounds of birds and insects and even the sight of an occasional black snake were sufficient entertainment. “One is nearer God’s heart in a garden,” the poet Dorothy Frances Gurney wrote, “than anywhere else on Earth.” We put that on Mom’s tombstone.

MOVE YOUR BODY: Long before fitness became a huge industry of gyms, gadgets, gear and classes, Mom performed yoga and rode her rickety three-speed bike 10 miles a day. I was a three-sport teenage athlete with a 10-speed bike and I struggled to keep up with her. She drank a gallon of water a day, long before it became fashionable, and bought low-fat and skim milk as far back as the 1970s when it was difficult to find anything but whole milk. Mom was a registered nurse and no doubt would be stunned at today’s sedentary, computer, cubicle culture. Mom played the piano and did a lot of sewing, but otherwise I have no memories of her sitting other than to eat.

NO SCREENS: Mom died before the Internet and cell phones. Computers in 1991 were little more than word processors. She refused to get cable and watched little television other than Jeopardy, which served an educational purpose for her three children. She believed in board games (preferably Scrabble and other word challenges), long walks, backyard badminton, Ping-Pong, tennis, eating outside and those 10-mile bike rides. Though she tolerated the obsession with televised sports Dad and I shared, I can’t recall her watching an event with us, not even the Super Bowl. She preferred to be a participant rather than a spectator in life.

GO MINIMALIST: Mom was wonderfully frugal. At the supermarket she could predict the total grocery bill within 50 cents. I often thought she could win a showcase showdown contest on “The Price is Right.” She wasn’t cheap – quite generous, actually – she just didn’t believe in buying non-necessities that cluttered your life. When I began lobbying to have a car at college, she worried that it would keep me from walking and riding my bike and feared it would inspire me to spend more time at stores and at the movies. Because Mom stayed in terrific shape, she looked great in any garment, even by the unflattering fashion trends of the 1980s. But she spent little money on clothing. If there were items my sisters or I weren’t wearing, she’d wear them.

EMBRACE EVERY DAY: Mom was a model of active, healthy living and still died at 51. Even though I have no chance of developing ovarian cancer, I’ve used her example as the benchmark for how I must live. Dad smoked cigarettes until he was 48, worked a high-stress career and never was admitted to a hospital until age 70. He’s still going strong at 77. There are no guarantees for any of us regardless of lifestyle, of course. I’m only a few years away from 51 and take nothing for granted. But I’d rather live lean like Mom to improve my odds and enjoy more along the way.

 

 

In our American consumer culture on steroids, it’s amazing more people don’t have the wake-up moment Joshua Becker did in 2008 when he realized he didn’t have time to play with his young son because he had to deal with an avalanche of clutter in his garage.

Thus began Becker’s BecomingMinimalist.com, arguably the best of an increasing number of blogs – including ToLiveLean.com – devoted to stripping down possessions, clutter, and commitments to free time and money for what’s really important: family, passions, and giving.

Becker has inspired millions to opt-out of the bigger-is-better American trend that results in less time and much more debt and stress. But even devoted followers of his blog will find new material and inspiration in the powerful new book “The More of Less.”

It’s not Becker’s first book, but the first produced by a mainstream publisher and marketed to the masses. It might be the coming out moment for the minimalist movement, even more so than Marie Kondo’s best-selling “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.”

Becker pays tribute to Kondo, as well as other noted declutterers such as Peter Walsh and fellow minimalist bloggers Courtney Carver, Ryan Nicodemus & Joshua Fields Millburn, Leo Babauta and others. But Becker drills deeper to frame minimalism as a means to develop a focused, mindful, intentional life.

Becker’s background is in church ministry and he delves a little deeper into the biblical references and his faith journey in “The More of Less” than he does in the blog, but the message resonates regardless of faith or lack thereof.

In the last few years, Becker has inspired me to eliminate 50 percent of my belongings, including 75 percent of my clothes, and reduce my television viewing to little more than college basketball. When you purchase only what you absolutely need, you find you don’t need much.

“Once we let go of the things that don’t matter,” Becker writes, “we are free to pursue all the things that do matter.”

Less clutter = more time and freedom. It’s a tough sell in America, where overconsumption is viewed as the norm, if not a civic duty to support our economy, itself unsustainable because of consumerism.

Minimalism, as Becker writes, is “the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of anything that distracts us from them.”

Indeed, more is less.

 

Where I grew up in Virginia, some of my neighbors had swimming pools. I mowed lawns as a teenager and my neighbors didn’t mind if I jumped in their pools as I worked, even though I was covered in dirt, sweat, and grass clippings.

My parents, wise and sensible people, never considered installing a pool. Why go through all of the expense and maintenance of owning a pool that’s used for perhaps three and a half months? If I wanted to jump in a pool, I could go mow a lawn. If we had a pool, I’d never use it.

Undeterred, I vowed to one day own a home with a swimming pool. Not only that, I would live in a warm climate where I could use my pool all year round. So it was that in 1999, in the final months of my twenties, I bought a big ass house with a swimming pool in Florida.

The night we closed on the house, my wife and I drove right over from the lawyer’s office to our new home. We marched right to the pool, stripped off all of our clothes, and jumped in. The water was surprisingly cool for a late June evening in Florida, but we didn’t think much of it. We now had our own home – and our own swimming pool!

Nearly 17 years later, we rarely use the pool, even though we still live in the same Florida home and can use it comfortably from about mid-April until the end of September. The relatively short “pool season” surprises Northerners, who presume that since we never have to cover our pools in Florida, we must be able to use them 365 days a year and would want to do so.

That’s just one of the great myths of swimming pool ownership, perhaps the most overrated feature of a home. It’s a strong selling point, to be sure. Just look at marketing materials for any home with a pool. Whether it’s a two-bedroom ranch or a sprawling 20,000 square foot compound, the pool is prominently featured.

Here’s what Realtors never tell you about pools:

THEY’RE HIGH MAINTENANCE: Sure, you’ll go through long stretches where this is not true, especially if you have a chlorine-free salt system, which we do not. Still, even without the salt system, you mostly have to throw in a gallon of shock once a week, put some hockey-puck size tablets in the chlorinator and make sure the pool does not turn green. No fuss no muss, right?

Unfortunately, your pool is a perpetual chemistry experiment dictated by the weather. There will be algae and stains and specialty chemicals needed. If you’re not constantly on top of this balancing act, the surface will wear out even faster than it ultimately will, requiring an expensive resurfacing. It’s not a question of if but when.

Sure you can hire a pool service, but that’s another monthly maintenance bill.

YOU’LL NEVER USE IT: Until you have a pool, you’re convinced you would use it every day. After all, you stayed a week at a resort hotel and you and the kids were in twice a day, every day. But the novelty wears off quickly when you have a pool of your own. When you live in warm climates, many homeowners have a pool. So it’s not even a big deal for kids to ask their friends over to swim. After all, they probably have a pool, too.

YOU DON’T “SWIM” IN IT: But wait, you say. I plan to use my pool for exercise. That’s wonderful. Too bad your average residential pool is 20 feet long and kidney shaped, not conducive for lap swimming. Perhaps you’re going to do some water aerobics or rehab movements. A pool is great for that. But most people think of pool exercise in terms of swimming laps and for that you need the traditional 25-yard or 50-meter version.

THEY’RE NOT THAT WARM: That night in June 1999 my wife and I learned that pools are not that warm, even here in Florida where we must build caged lanais around them to keep out the bugs. Not until late April in Florida – or Memorial Day in much of the country – does a pool reach 85 degrees, the comfortable temperature for sitting and socializing. By October 1 in Florida – or Labor Day in much of the country – the pool has dropped to 79 or 80 degrees. That’s perfect for lap swimming, but chilly for playing with the kids.

Sure, the kids won’t mind the cooler temperatures – to a point. Whenever we have guests from the North during the winter, there’s always a kid who begs mom and dad to let him jump in our pool. We highly discourage it, mentioning that the pool is 65 degrees and nobody has been in it in months.

Inevitably, Northern Mom will say, “Oh, that’s okay,” as the kid jumps into his swimsuit. “We’re used to that in Syracuse.”

“Please don’t,” I plead, sighing like Willy Wonka.

Moments later the kid is shivering in our living room wrapped in a towel, and Northern Mom is giving me the death stare for not warning them.

But wait, you say. Isn’t your pool heated?

Ah yes, the No.1 FAQ to pool owners. No, call us crazy, but like most pool owners we’ve opted not to purchase another expensive, high-maintenance heat pump on our home that would double our electric bill so we can swim from November through March. And, no, we did not want to install unsightly solar panels and PVC pipe on our home.

So I have learned my lesson with swimming pools. Sure, the pool has provided some fond memories. When our kids were between 3 and 6, a woman came over to give swim lessons to them and some of our neighbor kids (when the pool was warm enough). And we had a few memorable parties, though not as many as you’d think over 17 years. Even when you have parties, few people get in the pool. It’s almost as if it’s a water feature, like a fountain or pond.

As we downsize, one of the top requirements for our next home is that it not have a swimming pool.

But when we go to sell this one, the pool no doubt will be the most prominent feature listed.

I’ve made one change in recent years that’s had a dramatic effect on my productivity, sleep, mood, focus, and concentration.

For at least one hour after waking up and at least one hour before turning off the lights and going to sleep I do not look at a screen of any sort. That includes everything: television, laptop, tablet, and phone.

There is numerous research showing that staring at a screen around bedtime impacts sleep since looking at a lighted device makes your body think it’s still light out. Plus electronics keep your brain busy and distracted at a time when it should be winding down. Remove all electronic devices from your bedroom and see how your sleep (and sex life) improves.

If you use a smartphone as an alarm clock, get a traditional alarm clock. Yes, this seems against the Live Lean philosophy. After all, a smartphone allows us to eliminate a number of gadgets. But having a smartphone in the bedroom makes it more tempting to use it. Plus, no matter how diligent you are about shutting off the device’s alerts and beeps, you’ll inevitably forget and be awoken by an unimportant midnight text by a night owl friend.

For most people, the challenge here is to eliminate television, social media, texts, and email from the evening. But the best way to get adequate sleep and better sleep while clearing time for more important stuff (like sex in the evening or working out in the morning) is to undergo this digital blackout.

If you’re lacking time for sleep, sex, exercise, or reading, you can reclaim it by ignoring screens for at least an hour before bed and an hour upon waking up.

Reading is the best way to wind down before turning off the lights. It’s not a good idea to read a thriller or mystery novel that will keep the mind racing and inspire you to stay up until the exciting conclusion. But set aside a few magazine articles or, better yet, some boring stuff you need to read for work that’s not pressing. It will help you sleep better and might even put you to sleep with the lights on.

If you think you’re too busy or popular to adopt this blackout, think again. A while back I was staying with a friend and his wife. This friend is the owner of several companies, with more than 3,000 employees. He is a speaker, consultant, and expert sought after by prominent athletes and business people. And yet whenever I stayed at his home, I never saw him look at his phone, tablet, or laptop in the evening. He didn’t even keep his phone nearby, even though he deals regularly with these prominent folks.

Early in the smartphone era, my friend saw me checking my email frequently well into the evening. “You know,” he said matter of factly. “All of that will be waiting for you in the morning.”

That’s so true. I figured if he could let the digital distraction go for an hour or two at night, then so could I.

The same is true with the morning. If you look at a screen, especially a phone, within an hour of waking up, you’re immediately distracted by the needs and wants of others. If you wake up early – and you will wake up early by eliminating screens at night and getting better sleep – you’ll have plenty of time to train, stretch, meditate, and fuel your body properly for the day. That first hour should be yours alone.

The only exception I make is for a quick glance at my phone for texts that might have come from my morning training partners or folks we carpool with who might have a change of plans. But that’s all. I don’t glance at other texts – there usually aren’t any – and I certainly don’t fall down the rabbit hole of social media, news, and email.

By implementing these one-hour digital blackouts as bookends to my day, I’ve carved out that time for myself and set the tone for both the day and the following day. I’m more focused, energized, productive, and calm, and the agenda I set is thus my own.

 

 

 

To live lean means to eliminate time spent shopping for food and preparing it. It starts by basing your diet on a few regular nutritious choices and then finding one place to get it all for an affordable price.

Costco is the answer. I do all of my grocery shopping at Costco, entering a supermarket only a few times a year. (Heck, I do about 90 percent of all shopping at Costco). There’s still a stereotype about Costco selling only massive sizes, which is just not true. It’s possible to buy a single Rotisserie chicken, a dozen eggs or a bottle of wine. Sure, you can’t purchase a single apple or avocado, but don’t most of us buy them at least six at a time?

Costco is a terrific company on many levels because it stays lean. It limits its products to only high-end stuff, including many food products made under its own Kirkland Signature line. It caps its markup on products at 14 percent, miniscule for retail, and that creates customer loyalty. It provides its employees with among the highest wages and best benefits in retail, which also creates loyalty. It lets customers return merchandise with no receipts and no questions asked – with few time limits.

The company operates under two simple rules: Take care of your customer, and take care of your employees. Walk into a Costco and you’ll find people providing customer service with a smile.

Full disclosure: I’m a longtime Costco member and shareholder. I believe in everything the Kirkland, Washington, company stands for, though I’ve never had one of those cheap hot dogs they sell by the thousands. (They’re apparently pretty good, if you like hot dogs.)

I find everything I need to eat at Costco:

Rotisserie chicken: These are an excellent value at $5.99. Remove the fatty skin and you have enough for one meal plus leftovers. If you buy two, you can carve the second one up and take care of several lunches and perhaps another dinner.

Flank steak: This is the leanest cut of beef, yet it’s juicy and flavorful. Costco portions aren’t small, but if you’re cooking for only one or two, you can freeze half of it. I only eat red meat occasionally, usually when hosting guests, and this is a great option.

Wild salmon: It’s sometimes difficult to find salmon that’s not farm-raised, which contains higher levels of chlorinated compounds known as polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs). Costco sells wild salmon, some of which is already marinated.

Vegetables: Go for the mixed dark greens available in boxes or bags. Organic spinach comes in large bags or plastic tubs with a short-term expiration date. Spinach is versatile—you can use it to anchor salads or cook it in olive oil and serve as a side dish for dinner. Asparagus and broccoli come in larger packages and can be enjoyed several times over the course of the week. At our house asparagus is considered finger food and I’ve been known to eat it six times a week, coating it with olive oil and a sprinkle of sea salt and baking for 35 minutes at 350 degrees. I also buy broccoli and cucumbers at Costco.

Fruits: The price of blueberries fluctuates wildly over the course of the year, depending on whether Costco can obtain them from local farmers or must ship them from greater distances. You usually can find blackberries and strawberries as well. Frozen berries are always a good option. I buy apples, bananas, and avocados at Costco as well.

Olive oil: This can be a bigger-ticket item, so it pays to buy in bulk. Costco’s private-label “Kirkland Signature” extra virgin olive oil is a good value and a rich source of healthy fats as a salad dressing or as a marinade for spinach and asparagus.

Tomatoes: Rich in antioxidants, tomatoes are a staple of any high-performance diet. Costco sells them in all sizes, from grape to full-size.

Eggs: We buy the two-dozen package, but they come in smaller amounts.

Peanut butter: Costco’s organic creamy peanut butter, produced under its Kirkland Signature label, is delicious and contains only dry roasted peanuts and sea salt.

Whey protein powder: Whey is a by-product of cheese manufacturing and includes many essential amino acids that boost the immune system and promote overall good health. Protein powder can be found in chocolate and vanilla powder. I mix a scoop with my morning green smoothie and also a half-scoop with watered down orange juice before working out.

Muscle Milk Light: These sell in cases of 24 for $30 but they tend to go on sale for $22-$24 every couple of months so I stock up. Each 8.25-ounce container provides 20g of protein and 140 calories. I consume one right after working out to jumpstart recovery. They’re also convenient as mid-morning or mid-afternoon nutrition or if you’re running around all day with errands and shuttling kids. I limit myself to two a day, usually just one.

Nuts: They’re not cheap, so it pays to buy in bulk. You can put them in salads, mix them into post-workout recovery shakes, and even eat them alone like I do as a mid-afternoon snack. Almonds, walnuts, and pecans are good choices. Freeze to keep fresh.

Water: Costco sells bottled water by the case. Grab some standard half-liter bottles, along with some 8-ouncers for kids or guests who might not need a full bottle. Of course, you can save money and the environment by refilling your own water bottle.

Wine: Did you know that nobody sells more wine in the United States than Costco? Because of that buying power, the savings is passed along to you. Costco wines come from all over the world, including Europe, South America and Australia. Alcohol is not a part of a Live Lean lifestyle, and I limit myself to just an occasional glass of wine. There’s perhaps no better place to pick up a quality bottle of wine for a reasonable price and Costco has everything to satisfy your wine palate.

And that’s it. By “limiting” my nutrition to just these items, I save time and money and eat healthfully. I put limit in quotes because I don’t see this as deprivation. It’s what my body has come to crave. Costco makes it one-stop shopping.

 

Participation trophies are a polarizing topic. Some believe the trend of giving kids trophies regardless of performance dampens motivation and brings about a sense of entitlement. Others believe it’s a harmless gesture that builds self-esteem.

I tend to fall into the first camp. I received just one trophy as a kid despite playing baseball and/or basketball from the age of 8 through high school. That’s because my youth sports leagues awarded trophies to only the first-place teams. The second place teams received plaques, if that, and third place and beyond got nothing. Thus, getting a trophy was a big deal and strong motivation.

But we’ll save the participation trophy debate for another day. One overlooked downside to awarding trophies, ribbons, and certificates for everything is that it produces clutter. Plus, the award becomes the focus, not the experience.

This isn’t just true of youth sports leagues. We’ve reached the point in adult endurance sports where athletes expect a medal for finishing not just an Ironman triathlon or a marathon but every run-of-the-mill 5K run, even if it’s a “themed” race where most “runners” just walk around getting doused with colored powder. So you get a finisher’s medal, along with a T-shirt, and a “swag” bag full of sponsor promotional items (pens, key chains, etc.) and plenty of paper advertisements. Often the bag is a nylon backpack with the race logo.

So we’ve transformed what should be a physical challenge focused on pushing your body to new heights into a shopping experience. Pay $50, $75, or $125 and get a bunch of stuff. Do enough of these races and soon you have a drawer full of T-shirts, a box full of medals, and promotional items cluttering your home.

This same mindset often takes root in vacations. Rather than focusing on exploring new places and trying unusual experiences, many emphasize the accumulation of souvenirs, artwork, clothes, and home decor to remind them of the “experience.” Which is appropriate since for many people vacations are about shopping and consuming.

Thankfully, digital photography has eliminated the clutter produced by vacation photos. Those of us of a certain age will remember sorting through “free double prints” from the pharmacy and being subjected to marathon slide presentations – actual film slides, not PowerPoint – from Aunt Millie’s trip to China.

Though digital cameras have eliminated this torture and kept vacationers from shooting photos of scenery and famous sights that now can be found online, technology has contributed to a self-absorbed culture where we must photograph everything rather than just take in the experience. We live in the era of “photos or it didn’t happen,” which places the focus more on photographing the experience and sharing it online immediately over living mindfully in the moment.

Before we embark on any experience, whether it’s entering an endurance race or planning a vacation, we consider the cost in terms of time and money. That’s only natural. We think of the joy the experience will bring. But whether we think of it or not, we’re also weighing the swag we’ll receive.

That’s why I’ve come to consider experiences solely for, well, the experience. Would I enter this race if it there were no T-shirt, finisher’s medal or swag? It not, then why do the race? Would I attend this professional sports event were it not for a free giveaway? If not, why pay to watch an event for two to three hours if I wouldn’t do so otherwise? Would I take this trip if I knew I would bring home nothing but memories and perhaps digital photos that I did not share online?

As for participation trophies, how many of those kids would play sports were it not for knowing they’d receive a trophy at the end of the season? Probably most, but some no doubt have become so conditioned to receiving a trophy that the plastic trinket on a small slab of marble becomes the primary motivation.

Today’s 6-year-old receiving a participation trophy becomes the adult who looks for swag and finisher’s medals at a 5K, spends vacations shopping for “memories,” and makes decisions based on “free” giveaways.

Why not live lean and design your life around actual rich experiences, not the souvenir clutter they might bring?

It’s amazing what we’ll do when something is free. We’ll stand in line for an hour for a free burrito or Italian ice. We’ll buy tickets to sports events we wouldn’t otherwise attend because there’s a free trinket involved. We’ll pay hefty fees to enter running races in large part to get an ill-fitting “free” T-shirt cluttered with sponsor logos and/or a medal that will go into a box and be forgotten the day after the race.

Sometimes the lure of a free knickknack is enough for us to subscribe to a magazine, which not only creates the clutter of a knickknack but also the ongoing clutter of magazines we don’t need or want. We go out of our way to accept “buy-one-get-one-free” (BOGO) offers when usually we don’t need more than one of the item and sometimes not even one.

As I’ve purged clutter, I’ve discovered much of the clutter I received for free but never used. There are the never-worn free T-shirts, never-displayed ballpark giveaways, and never-used free product samples or the so-called “premium items” received for subscribing to a magazine.

When it comes to “free” clutter, just say no. That free clutter is costly, taking up time, space, and focus.

Over the years, I’ve participated in a number of endurance sports races – running events, triathlons, obstacle races, stand-up paddleboard events – and I’ve often turned down the free T-shirt. Most of the time the shirt is a generic, ill-fitting, unisex shirt cluttered with sponsor logos on the back. I also decline the “goody bag” since it’s usually a sack full of advertisements and paper. Occasionally there’s something useful buried amid the clutter – like a packet of sunscreen or an energy gel – but I find it’s rarely worth the time to go through the clutter. Inevitably I feel like Charlie Brown on Halloween, hoping for candy but getting a rock.

I’ve learned that if the race itself isn’t worth the entry fee from a strictly experience standpoint, it’s not going to be worth it because of the T-shirt, goody bag of advertising, and a finisher’s medal or trinket.

The ballpark freebie is the brainchild of Bill Veeck, the Hall of Fame baseball owner who from the late ’40s to early ’80s owned the Cleveland Indians, St. Louis Browns (now Baltimore Orioles) and the Chicago White Sox (twice). Veeck, who died in 1986, pretty much created what’s now known as sports marketing. He introduced names on the backs of uniforms (so fans could identify players), planted the iconic ivy on the walls of Chicago’s Wrigley Field (his father was once Cubs president), was the first to shoot off post-game fireworks, and believed in adding value to the ballpark experience. (His son, Mike, has introduced similar media-generating promotions as a minor league baseball team owner. Mike and I even wrote a business motivational book together years ago.)

Unfortunately, the ballpark giveaway is now a clutter giveaway. When in doubt, say no to free stuff. Most everyone knows to ignore the clipboard-wielding marketers at shopping malls and sporting events looking to “give” us something in exchange for signing up for another credit card.

But why take free paper handed to you on the street? Or commit to something because of a “free” T-shirt or knickknack?

If something isn’t worth buying for the experience or value it provides in its own right, it will not be worth it because of the “free” item thrown in as incentive.

 

In the last two years I’ve purged more than half of my belongings. Clothes, books, sports gear, tools, excess furniture, yearbooks, paper, electronics, toys, sports memorabilia, photos, and more odds and ends than I can count.

But yet there’s been something I haven’t used in 15 years that I’ve struggled to purge, even though I come across it every day and even though it’s taking up valuable floor space in the garage.

Golf clubs.

I haven’t played golf in 15 years and have hit the links just twice since I moved to Florida at the end of 1997. The clubs were not expensive; I bought them at the going-out-of-business sale of a local sporting goods store in 1998 for probably no more than $125.

It’s not like I once played a lot of golf, just an occasional round as a teenager. Though I’ve been around golf and lived near golf courses much of my life, it’s not a sport I ever embraced or found particularly enjoyable. If I have a spare three hours, I’d much rather run, swim, paddle, hike, or bike.

So why can’t I get rid of these golf clubs?

Maybe it’s because they represent a sport I’ve never been able to master. By parting with them, I’ll be admitting that I’ll never play passable golf, even though I already made that decision subconsciously by not playing since 2000.

There once was a time when I thought it was important to play passable golf. Twice in my twenties I started from scratch with lessons – first in Virginia and after I moved to Florida. I even co-authored a fitness book showing golfers how to train to play better golf and avoid injury. Even that didn’t inspire me to pick golf back up.

Golf is good for business and networking, I was told. Maybe that’s still true, though it seems like interest in golf has waned in the last two decades. Today’s hard-charging young and middle-aged professionals seem to prefer endurance sports like triathlon, mountain biking, and stand-up paddleboarding (SUP). Or CrossFit, yoga, and obstacle racing.

I can’t even say I’m keeping the clubs for my sons, who are at the age when they could take golf lessons. We have a driving range and teaching school around the corner, open year round. But the boys have expressed no interest in golf and, if they did, they’d need shorter clubs. A quick glance at Craigslist reveals comparable sets to mine – many comparable sets – in the $75 range. In the unlikely event I ever want another pair of clubs to replace these old sticks, I can find a cheap upgrade quickly.

It’s funny what we struggle to purge. For some it’s sentimental items. For others it’s books or mementos. Then there are the golf clubs and their equivalent, which represent another weird psychological hold, the middle ground between old hobbies and ones we never embrace.

True, you’re never too old to master a skill and if golf were on my bucket list, I’d keep the clubs. To live lean, we must curate all aspects of our lives, playing triage with our time by choosing only activities that bring us joy.

I can watch great golfers and appreciate their skills.

But devoting time to golf was never my thing.

And it never will be.

Today the golf clubs went to Goodwill.